


and when we danced, we danced

by Authoress



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, if u don't know it it's basically rival delinquents/gangs it's fucking gold, mask au, not in that order, there is jerking off and blood, this was supposed to be pure fighting to sex but then feelings and char backgrounds happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 02:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4373981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Kei sees him, he is bathed in red light and donning a cat mask curled in an eternally smug smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when we danced, we danced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kiyachis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyachis/gifts).



> im still kind of drunk and it's 6am also i didn't edit
> 
> fuck you kay
> 
> i've never written krtsk before so what the fuck is characterization
> 
> !!! this au belongs to scout, @kageyameme on twitter and it's a shitty fucking example of how excellent the au is pls don't diss scout's INCREDIBLE au because of my writing (not at all canon from this au btw) !!!!

The first time Kei sees him, he is bathed in red light and donning a cat mask curled in an eternally smug smile.

Instinct tells Kei to hate him, so he does.

His nails are dark and the flickering shadows make them look like claws wrapped tight around the flare, still going, _why was it still going, fuck!_ They’re in the no-man’s land between their gangs’ territory—Kei doesn’t actually have any right to attack him—but there’s something about this particular Mask that makes his blood run cold, then hot. It’s so hot. Cat Mask slouches, eyeing him through the holes in his mask, his free hand shoved in his sweatshirt pocket, like he didn’t feel threatened by Kei at all.

 _That’s cute,_ Kei thinks. He allows a smile to slide across his face, raising an eyebrow. _So cute I’ll have to bash his head in._ Kei doesn’t have a knife or anything with him, but he grabbed Tadashi’s crowbar, and he knows how to use it. It’s hidden behind the cinder blocks Kei is standing behind. He allows it to drag across the concrete, skittering across bumps in the uneven asphalt, making a horrible grating noise that makes Cat Mask pull his hand out of his pocket again.

Kei feels his body go languid and loose, strong. His vision hones in on his target, tuning out the outside noise so he can focus in on his target. _I hate fighting,_ Kei usually tells the rest of his gang. He leaves most of the border skirmishes to fucking _Shouyou_ who’d like to fight everything he comes into contact with. But when someone threatens his pride, treats him like he’s nothing, Kei doesn’t mind kicking them again and again until they’re groveling at his feet. He’s no king like _that one_ is, but he won’t stand to be treated like a peasant either.

Cat Mask isn’t an amateur. Kei can’t see a weapon, but he circles like Kei does, stepping into the ring, into the dance, blood pumping and adrenaline rushing and the metallic taste of Cat Mask’s neck already on Kei’s tongue. (Maybe not literally—he doesn’t know where this mongrel’s been, but it sure would be nice to make him yowl.)

But then reinforcements come, drawn by the flare’s light as Kei had feared. He draws away, back into the shadows, the moment Cat Mask glances back at them, slinking into the safety of his territory. He counts their numbers, examines the masks, and keeps the details straight in his head before reporting back to headquarters. He doesn’t worry about Cat Mask. He’ll be sure to see him again, but he’s a foe like any other, and he doesn’t matter.

Until he shows up on one of the border patrols, not antagonistic, just watching. Kei feels his eyes on the back of his neck before the rest of their group does, and he whips around to see the telltale sweatshirt dart away. It happens again when they explore a warehouse and he’s just sitting on the windowsill, back-flipping out when Kei rushes him, beginning to feel hunted. Kei thinks he sees him in the shadow of a wall on the way home. Under his bed. Leaning against his porch.

Kei sees him in a dream.

It’s the warehouse again, moonlight streaming in. Kei wants to snort because what a fucking cliché for…his mind skids to a stop. _For what? For a fight to the death? For a showdown? For rivals?_ Cat Mask’s wild hair blends so well with his mask it’s like a mane or a ruff of fur, and for a moment Kei isn’t sure he’s looking at a human until he sees the mask slightly lifting, revealing a smirk wild enough to match his mask’s. His flat, human teeth glint in the low light.

 _For lovers,_ Kei’s mind hisses gently, supplying the answer. He ignores it. He does not love this man.

Cat Mask gnaws on a nail, snickering. His tongue flicks out and over the finger, his pinky. He holds it out to Kei—a promise. Dream Kei moves forward, unable to look away from the man haunting his drams and waking nightmares. He links pinkies with the man and feels a warmth spread from hand to foot, uncontrollable and enormous, making him shudder. Cat Mask draws him forward, towards the frightening mouth Kei had never seen. He can’t look away from it. He dives forward, their lips brushing for only a moment before Cat Mask swallows him whole and Kei is _burning_ —

 _It’s a dream and it means nothing,_ Kei tells himself as he jerks himself off in the shower the next morning.

It means nothing until he’s walking through no-man’s land again, thinking about what insults he should toss at Shouyou today, and he’s bodily thrown through a hole in the wall of an old building, smashing his cheek against hard cement but ignoring the flash of pain in favor of kicking out blindly at his attacker. He makes contact with a _solid_ human, barely managing to throw them off. Them—him, he means. Of course it’s Cat Mask.

Kei is on his feet in an instant, as is Cat Mask. A swipe at his cheek reveals blood and Kei curls his lip in disgust. “You fight dirty, Mask Gang,” he spits, nut then turns his nose up, snorting. “Do you even know how to dance?”

Cat Mask doesn’t reply. Kei feels a little on-edge all of a sudden, and he reaches into his back pocket for his switchblade. He had been taunting, of course, but if Cat Mask really didn’t know how to dance—the fair way of fighting—then it was going to get ugly fast and Kei needed to put an end to it. His hand has just closed around the cold steel when a guttural laugh makes him freeze.

The laughter is muffled from beneath the mask, but it’s definitely the man in front of him. His shoulders shake a little and then he shrugs them, rolls them. Loosening his stance, turning to his side a little to make himself less of a target. It’s not a knife or gun fight stance. Kei pulls his hand from his pocket, weaponless.

“You’re right,” Cat Mask says, and Kei only allows the twitch of his upper lip to indicate surprise at the silky tone of Cat Mask’s voice. “I fight dirty. But I know how to dance. And I want you to dance with me, Tsukishima Kei.”

“How—how the _fuck_ —”

“Guess you’ll have to duel me to find out,” Cat Mask interrupts smoothly. “Come on, _Kei_. You were so confident when we first met. Scared without a weapon to hold over me?”

“When I first saw you, I thought you looked like a mongrel,” Kei murmurs, sharp and cold. “I was correct, but I think I’ll make an exception for you, this time.” They begin to circle, each step a planned movement, the act in a play barreling towards the climax the moment they stepped into the dance.

“Oh? What’s that?” He asks.

“I really will sink my teeth into your neck,” Kei replies. “Your jugular, if I can manage.”

Cat Mask’s eyes’ flash, Kei imagines, or maybe he roars, but Kei can’t hear it over the roaring of his own heartbeat when Cat Mask rushes him, faster than Kei expected. He’s not all show, unfortunately. Each of his strikes aims for a hole in Kei’s defense and Kei is annoyed to find that he is forced to strictly defense by his companion’s skill. Cat Mask pants as he fights—and ugly and ineffective sound, but it seems to fit a beast like him.

It’s irritating to play defense for so long, and maybe that’s his plan. The best defense is a good offense and all that. Kei kicks out at the wrong time, thinking he spies a hole and overeager to land a hit, strikes, but the man is quick. He blocks Kei and lands a solid blow to his solar plexus, winding Kei. Kei punches blindly, connecting with Cat Mask’s mask and knocking it askew, but not doing enough damage not stop him crowding Kei’s space, forcing him against a wall with a knee between his thighs and nails dug into his cheeks. He pushes up, right against Kei’s cock and Kei grunts, half pain, half something he’s rather not admit.

His hands lock around Cat Mask’s wrists, trying to free himself, but Cat Mask is on a mission, turning Kei’s head so he can find the injured cheek and _licking_ it, dragging his tongue along the raw skin, making it burn. It’s disgusting. Revolting. Kei’s knees go a little weak as he practically cleans the blood from his face and moves to bite at his neck, to leave the marks _Kei_ swore he was going to leave—

Kei knees him in the groin and backhands him, knocking the mask completely free and stumbling away. But something feels off. Cat Mask hisses in pain and backs off, but he isn’t—that wasn’t—Kei blinks at Cat Mask, who wipes at a bit of blood from his lips, split or bitten, Kei can’t tell. Kei sees him for the first time in the late afternoon light, the worst light, the kind that made people want to crawl away and hide or run outside and _kill something_ , the maddening light.

And he could tell Cat Mask wanted to kill him very, very badly.

He’s _handsome_. The wild mess of hair, matted with sweat or city grime, sticks up in odd places and makes him look like a street rat. His clothes are baggy and hide the true power and muscle beneath that Kei had felt fighting him. His lips are cracked from what Kei assumes is chewing on them constantly. He’s scrappy and bruised and scarred and grinning at Kei like he’s seeing something similar in him and he is _handsome_.

Kei _hates_ him.

He drags a hand through his hair and licks his lips lewdly. “Mmm, you make me want to touch myself,” he purrs. The thought shoots through Kei like an arrow, Cat Mask reaching down his pants and touching himself while his eyes sweep over Kei smiling and _smiling_ …Kei launches himself at Cat Mask desperately to free himself from the image.

He gets a good hit in. Then another to Cat Mask’s side. And then he feels the nails—they _were_ long—drag across his neck and down his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. He’s knocked off his feet a moment later, and Cat Mask is on him, using his body weight against Kei and leaning over him, pressing against Kei’s wrists to pin him in place.

 _Disgusting, disgusting, he’s almost **drooling** ,_ Kei thinks as Cat Mask turns his wild eyes onto Kei, devouring his face alive with every hungry switch of his gaze, taking in Kei’s every detail. He feels stripped naked by his rival, stalker, _whatever_ Cat Mask was.

Cat Mask kisses him.

Kei balks at the contact, surprise being the overriding emotion. He bites Cat Mask’s lip and he pulls away with a pleased hiss, bleeding. A drip of saliva and blood falls at the corner of Kei’s mouth and without really processing why, Kei licks it away. Cat Mask sees.

“ _Good_ ,” he breathes. “That’s so good, Kei.”

“Go to hell,” Kei growls, wriggling to get away but only settling Cat Mask’s hips better against him and _oh._ That was a _mistake_.

Cat Mask notices that, too. “My name is Tetsurou,” he snickers. “I’m not sure if you want to know the names of the guys you fuck before you fuck them, but.”

“I’m _not_ going to fuck you,” Kei snarls, horrified.

“Oh? That’s too bad,” Tetsurou sighs, grinding against Kei’s unfortunate but very, very present erection. “And here I am, having gone to all the trouble to search you out, wait until you were alone. Too bad, I suppose. If this was one-sided from the start there’s nothing to be done about it, _Kei_.” He leans back, off Kei in a glorious reveal of thighs and an arched back that Kei overwhelmingly wants over him, or under him, or in general, anywhere touching him.

Tetsurou moves to stand and Kei flips him over viciously, switching their positions. Tetsurou hits the ground with a grunt but his smirk never fades. “Change your mind?” He asks, raising his eyebrows.

“It’d be nice to wipe that smirk off your face, just once,” Kei replies calmly.

“Unstoppable force meets immovable object then,” Tetsurou chirps. “Because I want to see all the faces you can make. There’s the stony _tsundere_ , the provocative smile, and the focused fighter face.” Tetsurou yanks a hand free to trace the graze on Kei’s cheek down, down, to rest on his lips. “What face will you make when you’re inside me?”

Kei bites the finger hard and Tetsurou shouts.

Tetsurou flips him over again, this time not bothering to pin Kei, going straight for his hair to tangle his hands in the strands and _pull_ at them, making Kei gasp and his cock jump, only to be met by the roll of Tetsurou’s hips. Pressed so close to him and the heat pooled in his gut meeting the heat of Tetsurou’s crotch, Kei has to bite his lip to hold in the noises and Tetsurou _laughs_.

He doesn’t hold back. Tetsurou whines and pants and begs at Kei as he grinds, an animal by any other name atop Kei and Kei _wants_ him. Tetsurou’s neck is dark and tempting and Kei wants to sink his teeth in to see if human beasts bleed the same as civilized humans. He wants to dig his fingers into Tetsurou’s hips to guide him ( _he does_ ). He wants to choke that laugh out of Tetsurou’s throat my matching their tempos.

Tetsurou’s laugh shorts to a groan and Kei’s heart jumps. _It’s weird, it’s so weird. This fucking connection. I learned your name five minutes ago. I didn’t know you a month ago. Does it only take a flare and a mask to make me want, want **want** …_

It’s more than that. Kei didn’t want any of the other masks—it was just this one. Kei remembers the red lipstick and freshly ironed suit his mother always wore, her voice sharp and angry when he dropped from the first in the class to the second, blaming it on Tadashi, blaming it on his music, blaming, _blaming…_

Oh. That’s right. Kei had always wanted to destroy things, hadn’t he?

Destroy his reputation, his mother’s perfect world, Akiteru’s dream of Kei following him to an American university that had never meant a fucking thing to Kei. That’s why Kei joined the bandanas in the first place. He wanted to smash and break—things, people, his old self—he didn’t care. It was venting. It was therapy.

Tetsurou made him want to destroy things.

He pulls Tetsurou’s face towards him so that they can kiss again, an ugly mixture of teeth and tongue and maybe lips in there, somewhere, but everything tastes of blood and sweat and Kei feels fucking _alive_. The grit and the grime and the roughness and the realness and Tetsurou _looking_ at him like a piece of meat to be torn into. He loved it.

“Do you want me?” Tetsurou asks, curious at Kei’s change in mood. “Can’t feel how wet I am through my pants can you? I want you, too.”

“I don’t care why you want me,” Kei replies. “Not yet.” He stills Tetsurou’s hips and sits up, awkwardly pulling Tetsurou into his lap. He presses his forehead against Tetsurou’s. “I don’t care yet. But if I fuck you, I don’t want you to disappear. My questions haven’t been answered.”

“How long will it take for you to answer those questions?” Tetsurou asks.

“I don’t know. Never, maybe,” Kei breathes, and Tetsurou’s eyes dilate.

“You’re very lucky, Tsukishima Kei,” Tetsurou murmurs, “that I find you just as fascinating as you find me.”

He reaches a hand down Kei’s pants and trails a teasing finger around the head of Kei’s cock. “But if you’re going to keep me,” he purrs, “you’re going to have to work for me. I like you enough to jerk you off, but my mouth around you and you being inside me—that you’ll have to work your ass off for. Think you can handle that?”

“But your ass—” Kei protests, automatic.

“Ooo, dirty,” Tetsurou snickers. “You have to work for that, too.”

Kei wants to protest, this time just to be as obnoxious and horrible to Tetsurou as he was being to Kei, but then Tetsurou’s hand slides down his cock, twisting, and so the noise that comes out of his throat twists as well. Tetsurou sets a ruthlessly smug pace, going fast and hard and only occasionally stroking Kei’s slit so that his thighs jerked around Tetsurou, pushing him even further into his lap.

“Talk to me, baby,” Tetsurou orders in that same velvet voice that makes Kei’s cock twitch in Tetsurou’s hand. “You _like_ that,” he giggles. “I can’t tell if it’s my voice, the pet name, or me giving orders.”

“Mmmm, but Tetsu,” Kei moans, leaning forward so that he can breathe into Tetsurou’s ear. “I guess like this you’ll never get to see what kind of face I make.”

Tetsurou swears at his mistake and squeezes Kei a little, but it’s enough to make him come with a shout, throwing in a little extra whining to piss Tetsurou off even more, and then drawing back with the same smug look he knew Tetsurou wanted to wipe off his face (he wanted to wipe that same look off Tetsurou’s face).

“And now you’ve got my cum all over your hands,” Kei says, but he can’t hide how his voice shakes a little. Tetsurou snorts and doesn’t hesitate in licking his fingers clean. He makes a face.

“Eat a better diet, Kei,” he complains. “I’m not sucking you off if you keep eating shitty junk food all the time.”

“Kiss my fucking ass, Tetsurou.”

“Some other time, sure.”

“You’re still my enemy, I hope you know that.”

“I better be. I still want to make you bleed.”

“And I’m still good with a crowbar.”

Tetsurou throws back his head to laugh, and it occurs to Kei that he might have made a critical error along the path from one month ago to this moment right now, with Tetsurou in his lap and a hand on his hip.

 _I better not be in love with you,_ Kei thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> me while writing: shit shit nekoma is good at defense not offense im a fuckiNG IDIOT  
> me also while writing: "offense is the best defense"  
> me: im the best writer  
> me: im fuckign great at covering plot holes  
> me: no one will ever have to know that i don't know anything about nekoma


End file.
